Citizen X - BP01

by DePrima, Thomas

  "It's not coming up, Syd," Weems said on Com 1. "I'm worried that the strain on the cables will snap them."

  "So much for buoyancy," Caruthers said.

  "There must be something holding it down," Weems replied. "Was it jammed in the sinkhole, Syd?"

  "I don't know, Jerry. We didn't have a tug, so we never tried to raise it. You know, I wonder if all this water in the hole came during one of the deluges this planet experiences. Do you think it could be suction holding it down?"

  "I don't know. I only know it isn't moving."

  "Try rocking it."

  "What?"

  "You know, applying power and then backing off and then applying power again. Keep doing it in a steady pattern. It might help break the suction if that's the problem."

  "Okay, I'll give it a go. Everybody better back away in case this cable snaps."

  Weems started applying power and then backing off but never so much that the cable became loose. On the fourth application of power, the tug began to rise a little and then a lot. The MAT suddenly appeared on the surface, bobbing like a cork. As Weems pulled the craft free of the sinkhole, the water began to recede faster and faster. After about thirty seconds, a whirlpool action was noticeable, and in five minutes the sinkhole was completely drained.

  Weems ferried the MAT over the treetops and brought it to another large clearing a few kilometers further from the rebel camp. After setting the stern of the ship down carefully, he gently lowered the bow as he moved ahead slightly. When the MAT was solidly on the ground, he released the cable and returned to the small clearing.

  "Mission accomplished," Weems said as the others cycled through the tug's airlock.

  "Good job, Jerry," Sydnee said. "In fact, you did so good that we might even forget about that safety line thing."

  "You wouldn't tell anyone about that would you, Syd?"

  "Well, I might be bribed. What did you do to wind up on the Perry?"

  Weems looked away. "I'd rather be the butt of jokes for getting tangled in the rope."

  "Okay, Jerry," she said, "If that's the way you want it." But she knew she'd never tell anybody about his getting tangled in the rope and thinking it was one of the Lampaxa creatures. Perhaps Jerry also knew she'd never tell anyone about the rope incident, which is why he would still not tell her what grievous faux pas he had committed in the past to earn a berth on the Perry.

  Weems piloted the tug to where the MAT was resting and everyone disembarked to check out the ship. It was filthy on the outside, but that would change as quickly as the weather. The next rainstorm, which wasn't far off from the look of the sky, would leave it looking like new.

  Sydnee entered the security code and the ramp extended as the hatch opened. Everything seemed fine so far. Within five minutes everyone had cycled through the airlock. There were a few things that hadn't been properly stowed, and they had wound up against the rear bulkhead when the ship was lifted up on end, but otherwise everything seemed perfect. The real test would naturally come when Syd activated the power systems and oh-gee engine, but for now everyone simply wanted to relax in the spacious, insect-free environment of the MAT. Compared to the cramped cockpit of the tug, the rear compartment of the MAT was like a grand ballroom.

  After two hours of rest and a lunch made from emergency meal packs, it was time to continue their tasks. Weems left to pilot the tug and Sydnee moved onto the flight deck of the MAT. She proceeded through the checklist slowly and with utmost care. Everything tested fine, so she started the oh-gee engine and raised the MAT slowly as a driving rain began to fall. At a hundred feet, she advanced the throttle and the ship moved forward with increasing speed.

  It took just ten minutes to reach the distant landing area that Sydnee had selected from surface maps. The rain had passed through the area already and the sun was shining brightly. The group spent an hour camouflaging the MAT so it wouldn't be easily spotted, then boarded the tug and flew to a tiny clearing not far from the cave.

  Weems moved the tug slowly in against the trees and let it settle to the ground, then cut the engine and sat back. "Three more chores," he said to Sydnee. "We camo this ship, disable it so that no one can grab it like you did, then load that overgrown snake-lizard monster into the oh-gee sleds. Then we can head to that cave of yours. I'm dying to see it."

  "I hope I haven't oversold it," she said with a smile.

  "I'm sure you haven't. Let's see— decorated in a 'primitive' motif but free of insects, just slightly cooler than a sauna, and one large master bedroom that accommodates forty-two. That about it?"

  "That's about it. Still want to go?"

  "Syd, I wouldn't miss it for anything."

  As they approached the cave, Weems said, "I don't see a cave along here."

  "That's the idea. Watch and be amazed. And don't drop dinner."

  Sydnee led the way into the cave, walking through the holo projection that simulated a solid wall without even slowing. The others followed as Weems said, "Very clever. I never would have guessed there was a cave here."

  "The rebels didn't guess it either. They searched this area twice and walked right past it."

  When the group reached the large domed area, the misting devices were working and the cave was free of insects but also people. The lights came up automatically.

  "Where is everyone?" MacDonald asked as she looked around.

  "I don't know," Sydnee said. "It looks just as it did when we left to grab the tug. Everyone's packs are still here. Even the thermal blanket is still here in the spot where I slept. I sure hope the others are safe. They were only supposed to create a diversion so I could steal the tug, then hightail it back here."

  "Could they have been captured by the rebels? Or killed?"

  "I can't imagine them being captured. During the battle, the rebels who ran away dropped everything they were carrying. I guess they wanted to be able to run faster. The ones who stayed to fight never left at all. We destroyed all the weapons at the site, except for two mortars that we kept for our own use, so we've pretty much reduced the armaments of the rebels to whatever they could find lying on the ground."

  "So what do we do, Syd?" Caruthers asked. "Wait here, or go recon the rebel camp?"

  "Um, let's wait here. Perhaps they went hunting for food."

  "All of them at once?" MacDonald said.

  "Let's just give them some time. If they're not back by dark, we'll reevaluate the situation."

  "Okay, where do we bed down?" Weems asked.

  "Rett and I slept over there," she said, pointing, "so I guess that's O-country. The noncoms were sleeping there and there, and everyone else just picked a spot wherever they felt most comfortable."

  The officers all dropped their things in O-country and Sgt. Morales dropped his pack where he had been sleeping before. Within seconds, all were stripping their armor off.

  After everyone had cleaned their armor in preparation for its next use, the newly arrived officers were trying to determine if they'd be more comfortable in tee shirts and shorts in the humid cave or wearing their fatigues. For now, tees and shorts won out.

  Morales pulled the two carts filled with food packs and topped with the Lampaxa over to the food preparation area. As he prepared to cut off the head, Sydnee came over to look on. She watched as he removed the head carefully and then sniffed for the scent of ammonia. Smelling none, he said, "Smells okay, Lieutenant. I guess my killing cut was far enough back to avoid the poison sac, but I'll run a piece through the alien food analyzer just to be sure."

  Ten minutes later the verdict was in. The Lampaxa was safe to eat. Morales had already made good progress skinning it and washing the trunk in preparation for slicing it up. Weems watched him work, fascinated that Morales could work so nonchalantly on such an alien creature. He exhibited no more distaste than someone might who was carving a rib roast on Earth.

  When the Lampaxa had been cleaned and wrapped for storage, Morales packed most of it into one of the large collapsible coolers
the platoon had brought with them. The other coolers were filled with vegetables, fruit, and what was left of a buflo the hunters had brought back a few days earlier.

  "Lieutenant," Morales said loudly. "I mean Lieutenant Marcola. There's quite a bit of food here. It doesn't seem like they'd have to go hunting for more."

  Sydnee walked to the mess area and looked in the coolers. "Yes, there's certainly enough food that they didn't need a reason to get more. If they haven't returned by tomorrow morning, you, Lt. MacDonald, and I will leave for the rebel camp. If a recon shows that our people have been captured, we'll work out a plan for freeing them. As I recall, we left quite a bit of Corplastizine buried at our original camp. We may have to make a trip there to get it."

  "Aye, ma'am. Give the word and I'll be ready."

  "Oo-rah."

  "Oo-rah."

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ~ Mar. 14th, 2285 ~

  Dinner in the cave consisted of Lampaxa steaks and the green, red, and yellow vegetables found in the coolers, with nuts and berries for desert. Sgt. Morales grilled the steaks while Sydnee and MacDonald steamed or washed the vegetables and Weems and Caruthers washed and checked the berries, and shelled the nuts. Beverages were prepared from powered packages of fruit drinks.

  "You were right, Syd," Weems said as they finished eating. "The Lampaxa does taste like pork. How about it, Vince?"

  "Not bad," Caruthers said. "It's a lot better than I expected. I suppose I eventually could even get used to the sight of it. I'm not so sure about catching them on a regular basis if you have to jump into a swamp and engage in a fight to the death every time."

  "That probably means it should be treated as a delicacy," MacDonald said with a smile, "and expected only when the meeting has been accidental, although I know a few Marines who would look upon it as sport and probably try to arrange contests like the alligator wrestling events on Earth— one man or woman, one knife, one Lampaxa."

  "I know I'm not looking for a rematch with the species anytime soon," Sydnee said.

  "You did great, Lieutenant," Morales said. "You probably didn't even need us to assist."

  "If you and Lt. MacDonald hadn't assisted, I'd probably still be at the bottom of that sinkhole. Thanks, by the way."

  "I think Lampaxa wrestling should definitely be considered a team sport," MacDonald said. "At twelve meters, it definitely has the edge."

  "So what's your idea to save the Perry, Syd?" Weems asked.

  "It doesn't matter. It wouldn't work without the support of the platoon, and we don't even know their status."

  "Assuming that we find them, and that they're alive and healthy, what's the plan?"

  Sydnee looked around the table. All eyes were on her. "Okay, I know it's crazy and an almost impossible task, but it's all I can come up with."

  When she paused for longer than expected, Weems said, "Well?"

  "I— I thought we might commandeer the Abissto?"

  "What's an abissto?" MacDonald asked.

  "I think it means thrasher in Yolon, but it's also the name of the Clidepp military destroyer in orbit around this planet."

  "But that ship's a derelict, isn't it?" MacDonald asked.

  "When it attacked the dip ship, a lucky shot or two destroyed the oxygen regeneration equipment. The atmo in the ship slowly soured and the crew barely made it here. I guess their last act was to strip the ship of everything of military value. But— they couldn't remove the torpedoes and couldn't remove the exterior-mounted laser arrays. The FTL drive and the Sub-Light engines are fully functional. So the ship is just as deadly as any other Clidepp destroyer, assuming the people in command know what they're doing."

  "But it takes a huge number of highly trained people to operate a destroyer."

  "It does take a lot of highly trained, intelligent people to operate a destroyer in day-to-day operations, but we're talking about a three-hour trip in FTL. Just the presence of a second ship might get the rebel-held destroyer to surrender. They won't know how many people we have on board, or what our fighting condition or capability is, so they'll have to assume the worst. We three command officers can handle tactical, helm and command. The Marine radioman can handle communications. Kelly and her people can handle the gunnery. The torpedo system is self-loading once the safeties have been removed. We only need one person in there to keep an eye on things in case there's a problem. That's six men, one for each torpedo room in the bow, stern, and amidship.

  "We don't need cooks, medics, store's clerks, or even engineers. I'm sure the platoon has a few people who are good mechanically in case we have a problem."

  "You make it sound so easy," MacDonald said. "That's probably what the rebels thought. And we saw how that turned out."

  "I admit I've simplified things a bit. The most difficult part, aside from translating the Yolon signage to Amer, will be training the Marines as laser gunners, but that should only take a couple of days if the ship's simulators are any good. We'll have to remain in armor the whole time we're on the bridge and bring the MAT with us for sleeping accommodations, but I'm so used to the armor by now that it feels like a second skin at times. Depending upon the air quality in the Abissto, we may have to return to the MAT every few hours just to replenish our supply. Hopefully, the rebreather unit in the suits will be able to pull enough oxygen from the air in the destroyer even though you can't breathe it directly because of the CO2 levels."

  The group sat looking at one another for several minutes as they thought. Weems finally broke the silence with, "Ya know, if we could just get the ship to where the Perry is, we could get all the additional help we need."

  The statement was greeted by a few smiles.

  "Okay, I know the Perry is considerably understaffed to begin with, but given what's at stake, I'm sure we could borrow a few engineers to help with problems aboard the Abissto. They might even be able to rig some sort of an air regeneration system. At the very least, we can fill the Abissto's supply tanks from the Perry's supply. Right after the collision, it was touch and go with life support because so much of the ship was bleeding atmo, but once the hull was sealed, life support was fully restored and the air supply tanks are at maximum levels."

  "Yeah, it could work," Caruthers said, "if we can get the ship to where the Perry is sitting. And if the ship is automated enough to be run from the bridge by just the three of us. And if the platoon wants to go along with us— we have to remember that this isn't sanctioned by the Captain so it should be limited strictly to volunteers. And if the platoon is even available and not captured or dead."

  "Do you always have to play devil's advocate, Vince?" Weems asked.

  "What can I say?" Caruthers said with a smile and a shrug. "It's my natural comfort zone."

  "If we do this," Sydnee said, "I agree that everyone involved must be a volunteer."

  "I don't see where we have a choice. We know how bad off the Perry is. It's not even close to what Space Command calls fit for duty. The crew can't possibly fight off that rebel ship if it's made fully operational. We might make the difference."

  "It's getting late," Sydnee said. "Do we stay here or go to the MAT?"

  "Go to the MAT?" MacDonald said in surprise. "Why should we go there? The heat and humidity aren't really that bad here."

  "I was thinking more along the lines of safety. If we stay here, we have to do sentry duty in shifts. If we go to the MAT, we just seal ourselves in and no one can sneak up on us."

  "I vote to stay here," Weems said. "I'll take the first two-hour watch."

  "I'll take the second," Caruthers said.

  "Third," Morales called out from where he was wrapping up the leftover food and storing it.

  "I'll take fourth," MacDonald said.

  "Guess that leaves fifth for me," Sydney said. "Okay, guys, I'm beat. That wrestling match with the Lampaxa really wore me out, and the work of camouflaging the MAT pretty much finished me off for today. Good night."

  Within ten minutes, everyone except Weem
s was floating slightly above their bedroll and on their way to the deep sleep that often comes after an exhausting day. He retrieved his rifle and found a place in the shadows from which he could watch the entrance, then dimmed the lights in the cave.

  * * *

  "One of our lookouts has spotted a force of Spaccs," the radioman reported to Currulla when he came to the communications tent.

  Awakened in the middle of the night by the urgent summons, Currulla was still a little groggy with sleep and wasn't in the best of moods. "Spaccs? How many?"

  "The lookout reports seeing about forty or fifty."

  "Headed this way?"

  "No. The lookout said they seemed to be going out of their way to go around us."

  "Thank Lullelian for that. The Spaccs don't have to go around us here if they don't want to. They could walk right through the middle of the camp and we couldn't stop them. We thought we had a chance against them once, but that armor they wear makes them almost invincible. Lattice rounds bounce off and laser hits have no effect at all. And if lasers won't hurt them, shovels and rocks certainly won't. I've had enough dealings with them to last me a lifetime. If Suflagga had listened to me, we wouldn't have lost a quarter of our people. The Spacc mission must have been just to destroy our ordnance. Once they accomplished that, all they wanted was to be left alone. Suflagga refused to drop it— and now he's dead as well. The fool." Currulla realized he was rambling and shut his mouth.

  "So we do nothing?"

  "Haven't you been listening to me just now? There's nothing we can do. Just pray they continue to leave us alone. Any word from command yet?"

  "Nothing. It's been weeks since we learned that a freighter was coming to pick us up. Now I get no replies to anything. Do you think the rebellion is over and our cause is lost?"

  "Our cause will never be lost, but Citizen X might have been caught and everyone has gone into hiding. We won't know until we either get a message or we get off this miserable planet from hell."

  * * *

  Captain Nesadeedis, Captain of the Glassama, had been waiting impatiently for the Captain of the freighter Furmmara to arrive but managed to disguise his impatience when the visitor was finally escorted into the A Deck conference room.